


The easy life

by psyclonus



Series: Pet Play Fics [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aka he just bit him really hard once, Consensual Pet Play, Decepticons Win AU, Foot Fetish, It's ALL Deadlock and Hot Rod, M/M, Master/Pet, Pet Play, Sort of Reference to Drift's past, Valve Fingering (Transformers), Valve Plugs (Transformers), hotlock, minor blood play, obviously...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26868472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyclonus/pseuds/psyclonus
Summary: After the long war between Decepticons and Autobots, the Decepticons had finally won. But since the war was over, all Autobots became war criminals sentenced to a variety of fates. Deadlock couldn't have that with a certain hot-headed fiery mech. And now he's gotta deal with the Autobot Hot Rod every day of his life!
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod, Drift | Deadlock/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, It's actually Hot Rod fully but yeah
Series: Pet Play Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912963
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	The easy life

It was a hassle being diplomatic. Deadlock spent the entire day listening to idiotic mechs that barely even fought for the war and now _they_ are taking all the credit for winning it? Ridiculous. If he had control of anything, he’d have shut each of the ‘big wigs,’ up with a gun straight to their annoying faceplates. But Megatron was against any more violence. “The war is over, Deadlock. Enjoy it,” he’d say. He wanted to enjoy it, but what was to enjoy? Deadlock was trained for the war, taught nothing but how to fight in it. Now he was supposed to settle down in a comfortable quiet life? That wasn’t going to happen. 

Whatever. At least at the end of everyday, he did have something to look forward to. Deadlock couldn’t hide the deep set grin on his features as he began punching in the code for his hab suite. The door hissed open and the speedster stepped in carefully. The hallway he stepped into was dark, the entire hab suite was dark, not a single ounce of light. In order to remedy this situation he ran a servo over the wall pressing the switch, though no lights came on. 

“Again?” Deadlock grumbled a bit, flipping the switch over and over just to see if it would magically work this time. Of course it didn’t, which meant Deadlock had to refocus his optics to the dark setting. 

The hallway was empty, the only sound that echoed through the hab suite was that of Deadlock’s own engine. Maybe he was a bit too excited for the next few moments. Calmly, Deadlock walked down the hall, letting the sounds of his pedes echo out. Once he’d passed the threshold to the main room he stopped, paused really. Deadlock’s systems cooled to a quiet hum, his optics glanced around the room, taking in the scenery. His home was the definition of minimalist, a couch for sitting and the only reason he had a holovision was because his roommate demanded one. 

“Gotcha!” Shouted a loud and rather brash voice from above him. Deadlock’s helm quickly shot upward, seeing the red speedster he shared a hab suite with, slotted against the change in ceiling at the threshold. And gravity took care of the rest. Hot Rod came down like a meteor crashing on top of the deadly Decepticon. Regardless if the Autobot got a drop on him or not, Deadlock was stronger, and he held Hot Rod’s smaller frame easily on his back. 

“You got nothin’!” Deadlock shouted back as the red speedster wrapped his arms around Deadlock’s neck and his legs around his waist, sufficiently glueing himself there. The tight hold, despite Hot Rod’s smaller frame, was hard to get loose from, but it wasn’t enough to make Deadlock fall. Instead, he stumbled over to the couch and flopped down onto his back, sufficiently crushing the bot beneath him. “How’d ya like that?!” Deadlock shouted, rubbing his back against Hot Rod until the speedster let go with a howling laughter.

“Ok ok I give!!” Hot Rod relented, arms and legs flopping off of Deadlock as the Decepticon got up so he didn’t actually kill the speedster. As he stood up he could hear shifting on the couch behind him, turning slowly to see the image before him. Hot Rod changed to lay on his side, sufficiently taking up the entirety of the couch, a servo rested on his hip while the other propped up his helm and the whole scene was coupled with a sultry look. 

Ever since they began to live together, every other day Hot Rod wanted some physical attention. It wasn’t always like this though. Deadlock had met Hot Rod before the war, before he was Deadlock. They were both speedsters in Rodion, but Hot Rod was far more gifted than Deadlock. Having traveled from Nyon and his personality infectious, he really played to the crowd. Deadlock on the other servo was colder, less friendly, his career ended before it ever began. Before he knew it, he was homeless, living on nothing at all and selling the only thing he had left. 

Originally he hated other speedsters, hated the way the mechs fell to their knees for them yet spit on Deadlock. But Hot Rod changed his processor. He had met the speedster on the streets when Deadlock had been running from the local Rodion police force, and he encountered Hot Rod. Deadlock immediately lashed out at the red speedster but Hot Rod didn’t fight back. In fact he helped Deadlock escape, he gave the homeless mech a place to stay, energon and asked for nothing in return. 

They’d separated soon after but Deadlock never forgot the kindness. And even during the war he repaid the speedster by sparing his life but Hot Rod always helped him out again and again. Deadlock was never sure why but in the heat of battle, two speedster frames fighting for their lives without the desire to kill the other yet enemies, Deadlock grew fond of Hot Rod. And in return, Hot Rod seemed to have fallen for the Decepticon. 

During battles the two would sneak away, it started as simple touches, testing each other’s frames. But it quickly evolved. Hot Rod would press his heated frame against Deadlock’s larger darker frame. Soft scrapes of their metal as Deadlock thrusted his hips forward, the red speedster keening out against his mouth and Deadlock would drink it all up in a deep passionate kiss. Hot Rod’s paint always left red marks where he had been propped up against a wall, while Deadlock’s left black paint across Hot Rod’s clean bright colored aft. 

Watching the red speedster stumble out of the abandoned building they had scurried away to always entertained Deadlock. Though he also felt a weird bitterness, even though they had such intimate moments that’s all they ever could be, moments. They were enemies fighting for completely separate sides of a war that would rage on for years and change their way of life. Sometimes after their interfacing, Hot Rod would ask Deadlock what he was fighting for, and Deadlock would ask Hot Rod the same. It was like having an existential crisis every time their optics met. But he couldn’t push away what he believed in for a nice aft and Hot Rod couldn’t abandon his ways for a great spike. 

But everything changed when the war ended. The Decepticons won and Autobots became war criminals. Megatron was a benevolent ruler though. Their enemies were given different sentences, some got life in prison, some were executed and others were given the life Deadlock had nightmares of. He tried to stay silent through the judgements but the attachment that had grown for Hot Rod forced him to act out. The red speedster challenged the Decepticon judges, cursed and snarled at them with all the fight he always had. With the lack of sympathy from the judges, Hot Rod was sentenced to death. 

Deadlock couldn’t allow it, but he had no power over the courts and no power over the ruling. There was only one other thing he could do. He snuck the speedster out of prison before he was to be executed, he killed his fellow Decepticons to save an Autobot. Maybe Megatron turned a blind optic or maybe he never figured it out, but Deadlock never received consequences for what he had done that day. Well, not bad consequences at least. Because now he was housing a homeless mech .... a _needy, whiny_ homeless mech. 

“Come oooon Deadlock, stop just staring~” Hot Rod rolled his words off of his tongue as he tried to stick his hip out more. Of course it was hard not to stare, given that Hot Rod was a very attractive mech. But instead of openly giving him what he wanted, Deadlock just crossed his arms over his chassis, a smirk appearing on his face plate. This made Hot Rod roll his optics and sit up, letting out a dramatic huff. “You just like to watch me beg!” 

“I might.” Deadlock waved a dismissive servo, turning and plopping down on the couch next to Hot Rod, casual and relaxed. He knew that always made the speedster seethe. It was funny to watch him squirm. “Or you could convince my tired processor that I should entertain you?” Deadlock side optic’d Hot Rod who gave him a hopeful stare. 

“Deal.” He nodded then quickly stood up from the couch and...walked out of the main room? Deadlock raised an optic ridge watching him until he disappeared into one of the attached rooms. The hab suite wasn’t too big since Deadlock wasn’t one for luxury, so he knew exactly where Hot Rod had disappeared to. Was he supposed to follow the speedster into their berthroom? Nah, Hot Rod had to do the work today, Deadlock was focused on relaxing. 

And as he leaned his helm back, staring up at the dark ceiling, he remembered that Hot Rod had fragged up the electricity again. He’d better fix that while he was waiting. With a grunt he got up from the couch and went to the conductor in the opposite side of the hab suite, it was a quick flip of the switch and the home was illuminated. He knew Hot Rod liked to cause small problems on purpose just to get attention, but Deadlock knew if he gave him that attention he’d just keep causing problems. So quietly, he returned to the main room where the couch was. 

Though he wasn’t alone, because standing, pressed up against the door frame between the room and their berthroom, stood Hot Rod. He was poised in the doorway like he was trying to taunt Deadlock into following him. But that was not what caught his optics. What really got his attention was the collar situated around his neck and a long leash attached. At the end, Hot Rod was swirling the thing around in a big clean circle. He remembered he’d bought the set a few months ago because Hot Rod practically begged for it. 

“Like what you see?” Hot Rod grinned across his whole faceplate, he was always so expressive. But still, Deadlock wouldn’t lose so easily, so he turned away and headed back to the couch, plopping down and watched him curiously.

“Pets don’t talk~” And now the Decepticon returned the grin Hot Rod had, practically mirroring it. The words and expression seemed to only excite the speedster further, he came saunting over with a big sway in his hips with each step. Instinctively, Deadlock opened his legs, spreading them wide so when Hot Rod walked over he could easily stand between them, not quite getting on the couch. Deadlock reached out to grab the leash but missed the first attempt since Hot Rod was still spinning it. 

They both paused for a moment at Deadlock’s empty servo before Hot Rod openly screeched in laughter. His distraction gave Deadlock plenty of time to grab the leash on the second attempt and tug at it hard so Hot Rod had to lean forward. “You need punishment for laughing at your master, so get down on your knees.” Deadlock hissed, his engine revving loudly in an attempt to intimidate Hot Rod. Though the red mech seemed to only be excited further, his own loud engine revving in return and he fell down to his knees. 

“You look better down there.” Deadlock mused, tugging the leash so Hot Rod would scoot closer and lean his helm forward. “It’s where you belong, beneath me.” With his other servo he rubbed at Hot Rod’s helm, letting his digits expertly play with the curve of the plating. He could see Hot Rod’s optics gloss over, already pleased with the situation. 

“You wanna taste my spike don’t ya?” The red speedster nodded, his optics peering at the crotch plating before him. But still he didn’t move. When he wanted to be, he was quite obedient. “Want me to frag your face until your optics water?” And another short nod, Deadlock could already feel the heated plating between his legs. 

“Alright, convince me.” Then another short tug, before leaning back against the couch, servo still clenched tight around the leash. The Autobot slowly brought his servos up, pressing them against Deadlock’s thighs and rubbed up and down the plating. Deadlock never understood Hot Rod’s fascination with his legs. With a quick tap to one of Hot Rod’s servos he spoke out. “Ya know not to use your servos.” And quickly Hot Rod shoved them down, into his lap presumably.    


Instead, he tilted his helm, rubbing his cheek up against the inner thigh then turned to lick at the plating, hot exvents pressing up against Deadlock’s thigh. It was hard to ignore the feeling, but he didn’t want Hot Rod to think he’d already given in. So he made no movement and no noise. With the lack of response, Hot Rod had to continue on, kissing along the thighs until he reached the closed interface panels. That was much harder to ignore, Deadlock feeling his frame heat up unfairly quickly as Hot Rod’s tongue pressed up against the seams. 

After that, Hot Rod grew insistent like floodgates were opened. He licked long and hard over the closed panels, ex-vented and kissed even as Deadlock’s array was covered in oral lubricants. Involuntarily, a short hiss escaped the Decepticon which halted Hot Rod for a moment to look up at him with such a smug little expression. Alright, so he won this round, but with what Deadlock was about to get, he’d consider it a win. 

With a soft click, Deadlock’s array hissed open. Hot Rod’s optics always widened with excitement as if he’d never see Deadlock’s spike pressurize in front of his face before. Whatever, as long as he was quiet about it he’d let Hot Rod make whatever cute face he wanted. Especially with what was coming next. Hot Rod tilted his helm and pressed his lips up against the base of Deadlock’s spike, sucking lightly at the softer mesh. Deadlock vented in heavily as he watched Hot Rod’s helm slide up, licking a long line up the underside of his spike until he reached the tip. Each ridge was stimulated by the tongue and soon, as Hot Rod took his entire spike, the ridges were stimulated by the sucking and bobbing of Hot Rod’s helm. 

“Frag… You’re such a slaggin’ spike whore.” Deadlock couldn’t stop as his Dead End accent pierced his vocalizer. The accent always excited Hot Rod so he couldn’t complain, particularly because the more excited Hot Rod grew the faster his helm bobbed. Each down motion, Deadlock could feel the tip of his spike rub against the back of Hot Rod’s throat which only made him moan out. His engine rumbled loudly, servo gripping at Hot Rod’s helm almost too tightly. But it wasn’t fair that only Deadlock was going to become a moaning mess, so he moved one of his legs and slipped it between Hot Rod’s own, his pede pressing up to what he had originally believed to be closed panels. 

When he pressed his pede up he felt Hot Rod’s knuckles, and they were moving at the same speed as Hot Rod’s helm. Deadlock vented out heavily then frowned, feeling the speedster pause as he felt the pede. His helm pulled back until only the tip of Deadlock’s spike was in his mouth. He sucked lightly at it as their optics met then Deadlock could feel the servo moving away from where it had been working. 

“I was gonna help ya but now… I think you’ll just have to use my pede on your own.” His grip on the leash tightened and Hot Rod moaned as Deadlock pressed his pede up, feeling the hot, wet mesh pressed against him. The speedster’s hips began moving in a steady motion, sufficiently coating Deadlock’s pede in his lubricants. With a hum Deadlock pressed his servo to the back of Hot Rod’s helm and shoved him down on his spike, not allowing the Autobot to pull back. 

He could feel the ecstasy practically radiating off of the red mech as Deadlock rutted his spike against Hot Rod’s throat. His hips moved faster, more frantic, he felt the bulk of his pede occasionally catch against the swollen node forcing Hot Rod to whine and moan with Deadlock’s spike lodged deep in his intake. It was intoxicating, but he figured it was time to move the Autobot. He gripped the helm tightly, pulling Hot Rod back then shoving his face back down just as hard as the first time. 

Deadlock moved Hot Rod’s helm in a slow but rough motion, while Hot Rod’s hips rubbed against his pede fast and insistently. Soon enough, Deadlock could feel the Autobot’s arms wrap around his leg as he humped harder and harder. Honestly, with how rough Hot Rod was moving, Deadlock was sure the Autobot was close, so suddenly he ripped him off of his spike and pressed his leg up so it was hard to rub against him. 

“You’re such a fraggin’ slut, get up here and ride my spike just has desperately as you’re riding my pede.” Deadlock accompanied his words with a sharp tug of the leash, guiding the red speedster up onto the couch. His wet thighs spreading over Deadlock’s lap. Red optics examined the brightly colored lubricants seeping from the decorated valve he’d seen so many times. Hot Rod kept himself pretty, beautiful red and orange stripes and a pink swollen nub. At first Deadlock was tempted to laugh at the colors but it really matched his plating so he quickly grew to love the sight. 

Two dark digits pressed in passed the valve lips and slipped easily into the entrance just beyond, he hooked them inside and gently pulled Hot Rod a little closer. A sharp moan escaped Hot Rod and Deadlock could see his entire frame shudder with anticipation. 

“Ya really love being treated roughly don’t ya?” Deadlock tilted his helm, looking up at the pale blue optics practically looking right through him. Hot Rod didn’t respond right away, but his hips began to move, trying to frag himself on the two digits pressed inside. “You can speak now.” Deadlock hummed out, almost smiling softly.

“Yes!” Hot Rod practically shouted, servos immediately grabbing at Deadlock’s shoulders. His hips moved even more insistently and Deadlock was honestly tempted to watch him come completely undone on them. But the Decepticon wanted some physical release as well, so as Hot Rod pulled his hips back up, Deadlock removed his digits, watching as Hot Rod groaned in disappointment. “I .. I want your spike.” He snarled, but it wasn’t that intimidating considering he already looked like a mess. Intake hanging open in short gasps, optics almost white from how much pleasure he had been experiencing and frame so hot his fans were working overtime. 

“I know.” Deadlock grinned back, sliding his servos up Hot Rod’s thighs then to his hips, pressing his thumbs against the seam where his hips and legs met. Impatience grew on Hot Rod’s faceplate and Deadlock couldn’t stop himself from chuckling lightly.

“Come on come on!”

“Don’t be pushy or ya ain’t getting scrap!” Every time Deadlock showed off his fangs it shut Hot Rod up. Not because it scared him but because it excited him. When they were on the battlefield, Hot Rod always opened his neck for Deadlock’s teeth to sink into. He always wanted to feel the sharp fangs cut at his delicate fuel lines. And much like back then, Hot Rod still did it now. His helm tilted to the side as Deadlock guided him downwards. The valve lips rubbed against the tip of Deadlock’s spike and he vented in quickly. Hot Rod pressed down further until he could feel Deadlock’s tip press in past the entrance. It was only a bit of a stretch, enough to make Hot Rod whimper, but not enough to harm him. The speedster must have played with himself before Deadlock got home. Thinking about Hot Rod sitting out, pressing digits deep inside himself in anticipation for Deadlock made the Decepticon openly moan. 

In a probably far too fast motion, Deadlock slammed Hot Rod’s hips down until their platings crashed together. Hot Rod’s helm flew backwards as he shouted out, his calipers rippling over Deadlock’s spike so tantalizing that the Decepticon had to keep moving just to feel them rub up against evey ridge. His digits began to dig into Hot Rod’s hip plating, leaving round little dents as he pulled the speedster up and slammed him back down. The second thrust had them both moaning and this time Hot Rod was the one who began pushing himself back up. 

“Oh slag…” Hot Rod moaned out as Deadlock released the leash, instead grabbing at the collar and pulling his helm close. It was like Hot Rod knew what was coming next and he was right. With the collar being pulled down Hot Rod’s neck was far more exposed, which Deadlock used to his advantage. He shoved his face into the crook of Hot Rod’s neck and bit down on one of the sensitive cables which made the speedster shout, his callipers tightening around Deadlock’s spike before quickly relaxing. The feeling of his spike sliding in and out of Hot Rod’s valve coupled with his fangs sinking in and tasting warm energon made his frame push right over the edge. 

With one hard thrust upwards, Deadlock dumped his transfluids deep into Hot Rod’s valve. The speedster returned the favor, callipers rippling again as Hot Rod came with Deadlock, shouting and clawing at the Deception’s dark shoulders. Both their hips continued, riding out their ecstasy together until both their frames slowed to a tired stop. Deadlock moved his fangs and laid back against the couch, Hot Rod atop him leaning forward with him. His lap was so wet with lubrication and transfluids that he’d need to have a nice long solvent wash later. 

As they sat, their frames vented out heavily, fans working hard to cool them both down, Deadlock slowly reached his servos up to unhook the collar from Hot Rod’s neck throwing it over the couch and watching it and the leash fly off out of sight. His servos returned to the neck, pressing against where energon dripped out, gently soothing the injury he'd caused. 

What surprised Deadlock was the soft chuckle he let out, at first he wasn’t even sure it was him that did it but when Hot Rod sat up to look down at him with a curious look he realized. “W-What’s so funny?” Hot Rod tried to speak but his vocalizer was shot, probably from the shouting...or getting face fragged…

“Just...never thought I’d be happier here with an Autobot instead of the Decepticon utopia outside.” Deadlock admitted, moving his clean servo up to stroking at Hot Rod’s face, watching as the Autobot nuzzled into his servo. Their colors were so starkly different it was appealing to look at. “I spent so many years fighting you yet here I am ready to spend the rest of my...very long life with you.” It was uncharacteristic of Deadlock to act like this, but he couldn’t stop the soft smile that stretched onto his features. It must have surprised Hot Rod quite a bit, because the Autobot just stared wide-optic'd at him as if he’d said the strangest thing ever.

“Are you...asking me to be your Conjunx Endura?” Hot Rod’s servos began to slowly pat at Deadlock’s chassis then up to his face plate as if checking to see if he was real. Deadlock figured his spike still lodged inside the other was good enough. 

“Well, if ya don’t want to forget it.” Deadlock quickly pulled his helm away and looked to the side, kind of embarrassed to even show himself so vulnerable in front of the Autobot. But he couldn’t look away for long, his cheeks were squished and he was forced to look back at Hot Rod, his blue optics were almost like fire despite the color. 

“Let me answer you idiot ‘con!” 

The shout took Deadlock by surprise, his optics blinking up widely at Hot Rod, then gave a short nod. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you since during the war! I wanted to run away with you, why do you think I kept asking about _why_ we were fighting?!” Ok, that really surprised Deadlock. Actually he was utterly stunted, his vocalizer stuttering as he tried to find his words. But Hot Rod continued. “Yes, Deadlock… Drift, I love you so much you have no idea.” It wasn’t often...or really ever he heard his real name, and he only ever allowed Hot Rod to use it, but this time hearing it leave that shot vocalizer made him chuckle. 

“I love you too, fragging little punk.” The Decepticon leaned forward and nuzzled his helm against Hot Rod’s. He supposed he could enjoy a comfortable life if Hot Rod was in it with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy, I'm posting this on my friend's birthday because they are huge fans of HotLock and.. well, who wouldn't be?! 
> 
> I really love a lot of Drift ships and DriftRod/HotLock is one of my absolute favorites!


End file.
